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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29198079">The Happy Prince</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineLady91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes'>White Queen Writes (DivineLady91)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crowley Drops the Book [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, BDSM, Dom/sub Undertones, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Lovers, M/M, Post-Canon, Punishment, Reading Out Loud, Vibrators, but Anathema has no clue, just the ramblings of an ineffable bdsm expert, savage misuse of a beloved Oscar Wilde story, this is what happens when Crowley drops a book</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:35:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29198079</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineLady91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Anathema stops by A. Z. Fell's to pick up a book she ordered, she finds Crowley reading out loud in Aziraphale's back room. The angel claims that Crowley is 'serving punishment' for dropping a book. Fortunately, she never finds out the extent of what that punishment entails.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Crowley Drops the Book [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Happy Prince</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Follows 'Balance'. You guys wanted to know what happens when Crowley drops the book. XD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>"‘Little bird, little bird,’ said the prince, ‘please will you stay with me for one more night?’</em> Mmph... "</p><p>Stop.</p><p>Pant.</p><p>Swallow.</p><p><em>"‘My friends... m-my friends are waiting for me,’ answered the bird. </em>Ngk! <em>‘Far away across the city,’ said the prince, ‘I can see... I can see... "</em></p><p>Stop again.</p><p>Swallow again.</p><p>A forked tongue wets dry lips, but another pant undoes that instantly.</p><p><em>"I-I can see... </em>Aziraphale! Jeez! Can you please let up... for just one minute?"</p><p>"Your job is to read, my dear," Aziraphale says, fidgeting absentmindedly with something small and black in his hands, "not complain. And as I have done nothing wrong, I will do as I please. So get. back. to it."</p><p>Crowley glares at the book in front of him hard enough to curl the pages, but he refrains from lighting it on fire.</p><p>And he does not dare turn those scowling eyes on Aziraphale.</p><p>Not when he considers what his angel has the power to do to him. </p><p>He clears his throat to fortify his voice, shifts in his seat, and continues. "<em>‘I can see a young writer in a little room at the top of a house... </em>aaah!" Crowley's hand creeps to the end of the desk, fingers curling around the lip and holding on for dear life. "<em>He is s-sitting at a table that is covered with papers... '"</em></p><p>The sharp clatter of a bell doesn't silence him, but it pulls Aziraphale's attention to the door.</p><p>"Anathema! Darling!" he says, rushing over to greet her. "So nice of you to drop by!"</p><p>"Hello, Mr. Fell! I've come to retrieve the book I ordered."</p><p>He beams at her and her occult intuition. "Miraculous timing, my dear! It came in not ten minutes ago."</p><p>"Oh! Then I'm late!" she kids.</p><p>Crowley's shaking voice picks up where her laughter leaves off. "<em>Ah... ah... at his side there are some d-dead flowers. He is t-trying to finish a story. But he is very cold ah... ah... and he cannot write.</em>"</p><p>Anathema's brow wrinkles as she listens to the demon's recitation through the doorway leading to Aziraphale's private back room. Crowley sounds like he's about to sneeze any second.</p><p>Or perhaps scream.</p><p>"What is Mr. Crowley doing?" she asks, warring with herself over peeking in.</p><p>"He dropped a book," Aziraphale explains simply, wrapping Anathema's purchase in heavy brown paper to protect it on her bike ride home. "He's serving punishment."</p><p>"So... he's reading out loud?"</p><p>"Oh, yes. He <em>abhors</em> reading," Aziraphale swiftly lies. "Most demons do."</p><p>"Strange when you consider the amount of evil literature that exists in the world."</p><p>"Most of that is written by humans with the help of demons."</p><p>"And the others?"</p><p>"Still written by humans. But with no demonic assistance."</p><p>"Makes sense," Anathema says after a moment of reflection. "I don't have anything close to your experience in the matter, but I definitely can see how that's true."</p><p>"Do you have time for a cup of tea?" Aziraphale asks, grinning when that question makes Crowley trip over his next sentence. He knows there will be no relief for him with guests in the place.</p><p>In fact, the stakes might get higher.</p><p>He is far too proud - and <em>stubborn -</em> to beg in front of company. Nor would that be appropriate - including Anathema in this without her consent.</p><p>Aziraphale wouldn't stand for it.</p><p>It would add another hour or two to his torment.</p><p>"Thank you, but I can't today," Anathema says, collecting her book. "Far too busy to even catch my breath! Raincheck?"</p><p>"Absolutely. Feel free to redeem it at any time."</p><p>"I will." She smiles at her angelic friend. "Thank you so much for everything."</p><p>Aziraphale's grin softens for the young lady. "You are welcome, my dear."</p><p>"Uh... have a nice afternoon," she calls awkwardly to the demon performing penance.</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Nice afternoon to you and all that," Crowley grumbles.</p><p>His comically tight voice makes her snort. </p><p>She slides the book into her backpack, then heads out, waving goodbye as she hurries on her way.</p><p>Aziraphale smirks at Crowley's sigh of relief once he senses Anathema mount her bike and ride off. </p><p><em>'Well, that's that,' </em>Aziraphale thinks, tugging down the hem of his waistcoat, flattening a few of the resident wrinkles. <em>'Now, I do believe it's about time I checked in on my demon</em>.' </p><p>Aziraphale strolls to the back. Crowley should be able to hear him coming. He's not hiding the fact. So Crowley has time to fix his appearance. Instead, he looks a wreck: hair sticking out in all directions from his hands yanking through it; cheeks connected over the bridge of his nose by a crimson splotch, making every freckle on his face stand out; his lip chapped to Hell from chewing. Aziraphale couldn't be more pleased, save one thing. </p><p>He surveys the desk Crowley sits behind, frowning at deep, finger-shaped indents along the edge. A miracle will fix that right up, but still. That desk is an original Gillows Davenport. He wishes Crowley had more respect for antiques than that. </p><p>If he did, he might not be in this mess.</p><p>"You're looking awfully comfortable in here," Aziraphale teases. "Do you feel you've suffered enough?"</p><p>Aziraphale expects an earful of griping and moaning. But for all of his bitten lip and cramping brow, an incredulous expression crosses Crowley's face and stays there. Aziraphale is tempted to tut. Whatever his demon's first instinct, it will be his undoing for sure.</p><p>"Suffered! Ha! Wot you call suffering, I call a walk in the park! I'm a demon, remember? I know more about suffering than you could imagine, even with your 6000 years of experience on Earth! There is not a single thing you can dish out that I cannot take!"</p><p>"Is that so?" Aziraphale muses with a sinister chuckle. <em>Oh, the bluster!</em> "Well then - why don't we give you a new book to read?" He swipes the slim collection of Oscar Wilde stories off the desk and replaces it with a much thicker, older-looking, leather-bound one.</p><p>Crowley snickers at Aziraphale's attempts at irony. First, making him read <em>The Happy Prince</em>, which, incidentally, is the name of the rather girthy vibrator currently shoved up his arse and buzzing like an angry hornet. But now, angel has given him the book he dropped, as if he's <em>so</em> clever.</p><p>"The Bible?" Crowley scoffs. "I think you forget, I can recite that in my sleep."</p><p>"True, but what you may not have noticed while you were mishandling it is this one is written in <em>Latvian</em>, a language I know isn't one of your strong suits."</p><p>"Shows you. You're the one who has to listen to me read it."</p><p>"And while we're at it, why don't we crank this up to seventeen?"</p><p>Crowley's yellow eyes nearly fly out of his skull with the speed they snap up to Aziraphale's face. "Sss-seventeen!" he yelps, looking much less confident and turning sickly pale. "D-don't those normally only go up to ten?"</p><p>"Do they? Go figure." Aziraphale sets the remote control down on the desk. He's no longer using it, and that realization makes Crowley sweat like a fountain. Though how Aziraphale plans to slip this by the home office...</p><p>
  <em>Oh no. </em>
</p><p>Crowley knows precisely how Aziraphale plans to slip this by Heaven. By claiming the miracle <em>necessary in the torture of a demon</em>.</p><p>Gabriel might just wet himself with glee when he reads that. Aziraphale may even get a commendation.</p><p>"I-is Book Girl still here?" Crowley asks desperately, deciding it might be better to have a witness present, even if that prolongs his overall suffering. "Or Madame Shadwell? You expectin' anyone over for tea, angel?"</p><p>"Afraid not," Aziraphale replies with a mock pout. "Ta-ta, Crowley. I have books to shelve." He snaps his fingers and grins, Crowley's high-pitched squeal music to his ears.</p><p> </p>
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